


There's Something Better, They Keep Telling Me

by SloaneRisette



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Abusive bosses, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Grinding, Lapdance, Non-Consensual Touching, Sexual Harassment, Underage Drinking, Whorephobia, sex work au, strip club au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:41:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23306224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SloaneRisette/pseuds/SloaneRisette
Summary: Unable to receive support from her parents for medical school, Jemma Simmons picks up a job at a strip club: The Lighthouse. The money is as good as the friends she makes, but stretching between the job she needs and pursuing the career she wants proves to be difficult, especially when she has to make sure no one finds out-- even her best friend.University is easy, and stripping quickly becomes something she grows fond of, but nothing will ever be that simple. Not with the bosses she has, and not with how she has to dance around on a daily basis.(Stripper/Strip Club AU)
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 31
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Had this idea for a fic for a long while, and I've finally gotten around to editing it and now uploading it! I'm already marking this as E because there will most certainly be smut chapters later on, but this first one is pretty simple. I hope you all like it!
> 
> I want to give lots of thanks to LastAstronaut for checking on this fic too!

Despite having studied all day and the day prior, as well as not getting nearly enough sleep, Jemma Simmons could still feel her stomach tighten up into knots as she made her way towards her Living Anatomy class. She was prepared, she knew this test wouldn’t be a problem, and yet that didn’t stop the nerves from hitting her full force. Knowing she’d be in for a long shift after merely compounded on it, and the brunette swallowed hard as she reached the school’s science building. She checked her phone for the time quick, before walking through the door as someone had held it open for her.

“Oh— thank you,” she said cheerily, before quickly rushing in, her pace quickening to reach the door at the end of the hall as a few students were filing in. She could do this. Tests were no trouble for Jemma Simmons. She knew this and everyone who had been in classes with her knew it. Despite what others in her MD program probably thought, her being a young prodigy was just as much a badge of honor as it was something that brought immeasurable pressure and stress in situations like these. Succeeding in medical school was a necessity and becoming a doctor had been a goal of her since she was a young girl. Stepping into the classroom, Jemma took in a deep breath, before she padded down to her seat in the front, wasting no time in getting out each and every little thing she needed, including multiple No. 2 pencils and a large eraser that had seen far better days. Right after, she had quickly picked up her backpack and brought it to the front, before heading back to her seat.

There was no time to sit and wait, as her professor was making his way to the front of the class, handing out tests to the front row right after.

“You all have seventy-five minutes for your midterm. When you’re done, you may collect your things and leave.”

Jemma had barely managed to make it back to her seat as soon as the stack of tests was passed to her. Pencil gripped in hand, she tucked her brown hair behind her ears and had instantly gotten to work, looking up at the digital clock and timer that had been projected onto the board almost every minute. The exam wasn’t new or tough, but it was the time limit that terrified her. Sure, Jemma had seventy-five minutes to breeze through this medical exam, and while in reality she only had maybe thirty, she had to get to work as quickly as possible. 

She couldn’t risk being fired.

It was why she worked faster than usual, with fingers on her free hand tapping along to a beat in her head, having to hold herself back from humming. Twenty minutes later she had managed to get up, much to the utter awe of her classmates, and set her test on the table the professor was sitting at.

“Have a good night, Doctor Vaughn,” she said with a nod, grabbing her things and just about running out of the class with her bag. As soon as she had popped out of the room, she had pulled her phone from her bag to check the time again. There was just enough time— as long as she hurried.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she mumbled to herself as she just about burst out of the building and started to run to the parking structure, keys tucked safely between her knuckles as a safety precaution. 

The time meant that few people were walking around campus, and all she had to do was get to her car as fast as possible. Her work’s parking lot was already sketchy enough, and with how often the lampposts tended to go out at this area, she needed to be safe— she was glad that she had learned that trick with the car keys from her coworkers. A soft sigh of relief escaped her when she finally caught sight of her car some dozen yards away, closing that last bit of distance by breaking into a light run. She threw her backpack in the trunk, looking inside to make sure her duffel was there, and then sped off to work.

Being twenty-one, ultimately, wasn’t that big of a deal for Fitz.

He didn’t care too much about birthdays, especially since it was yet another one where he was without his mum, and he was rarely the type of person to ever want to go out and do much. It was much simpler and easier to just take an early night, order a pizza, and fall asleep. He would see Simmons tomorrow, given her midterms tonight, but he was a simple man. He didn’t want too much, and frankly, a good day for Leo Fitz usually involved science and Simmons. Maybe some spag bol, if he really wanted to add some alliteration alongside his favorite things.

And, ok, sure, he was still a little miffed that he and Jemma wouldn’t be able to spend his birthday hanging out like they had planned well before midterms, but at least they would be able to spend some time together tomorrow.

Maybe some people didn’t enjoy their classes, but Fitz was a fiend for learning— it was the whole reason he was at university. Not to party, slack, or goof up, but so he could get that engineering degree he so craved. So he could work in a real, professional lab soon enough. Aerospace Engineering, as much as he loved the class and material, wasn’t always the subject Fitz wanted to be in a class for at eight at night. Two whole hours, and, sure, the current unit on propulsion systems was great, Fitz could feel his eyelids growing heavy, and he was ready to turn in.

A sigh of relief left him quite loudly as soon as the Doctor Hall had let them leave for the evening, but as soon as he had exited the door, he nearly jumped when he saw his friends. Mack, Hunter, Trip, all three were there with wide smiles on their faces. “Oh… hey guys. What’re you doing all the way down here…?” he asked curiously, quirking an eyebrow, yet not stopping. Now walking in step, the four nearly took up the hall as they went down, before Hunter started to take a few steps forward to create some room, walking backwards to face the group.

“C’mon Fitzy,” Hunter started with a trademark smirk on his face, “You didn’t seriously think we wouldn’t be here to celebrate for your big day as soon as you were out of class?”

Fitz let out another sigh, rubbing his face with his hands for a brief moment to try and chase away the sleep, then shook his head.

“We have the perfect celebration store for you,” Trip told him as he clapped one of Fitz’s shoulders, shaking him a bit and laughing gently.

“Is it me going back to my room? Because after that lab, all I want to do is rest,” he groaned, shaking his head, but unable to help but let loose a little smile. He had done good, he was now twenty-one, and he had a fair number of his friends around.

The grins shared between his friends left his stomach slowly dropping. Though they were his friends, there was certainly the fear of whatever the hell they could’ve schemed up behind his back to put him through. Even if Mack was the voice of reason, he had a feeling whatever dastardly schemes Trip and Hunter came up with would change his mind.

Some bloody birthday he was having, where his friends were clearly about to enact some plot to make him suffer somehow.

“No no no, Turbo,” Mack started, and that alone left Fitz feeling he was doomed, “We pooled up a pretty good amount of money, no way you’re missing out.”

Fitz couldn’t help but feel a bit wary about the mention of cash, but he figured that it was just for the bar. “I’ve already had plenty of beers before. Drinking is no big deal you guys!”

Uproarious laughter came from Hunter as they finally left the building, and it caused Fitz to suck in a deep breath, now even more frightened about what would happen. If Hunter was this excited then clearly nothing good could come of this.

“…Should I be worried?” he asked, voice almost wavering as he thought of what kind of horrible, hellish fate awaited him. Trip wrapped his arm around the Scot’s shoulder, pulling him into a half hug.

“Buddy, you are about to have the best night of your life.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got far too excited to *not* post the second chapter, so here it is! Updates will be a bit slower from here on out, seeing as I'll have to work on editing what I have. Things are going to be quickly ramping up, though, so I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Once again I want to give thanks to LastAstronaut for reading this for feedback ahead of time!

The light of the neon sign was visible well before the club itself came into view.

The Lighthouse.

The outside looked just as dingy as the inside certainly was, and as Jemma started to turn into the alley next to the Lighthouse, her nose scrunched up at the very thought.

She had parked in the little parking lot behind the building, the lights of the neon signs all around quickly fading into darkness. Jemma slumped down in the driver’s seat for a moment and took in a breath before she got out, grabbed her bag, and ran inside through the back. In an instant her senses were assaulted: the music that played in the locker room, the music that flooded through from the front of the club, the bright fluorescent lights in the room, and the bright colors not just from the changing room but the colored lights that shone through the curtains. It wasn’t exactly the first place that she had wanted to work when she realized she needed money for university, but it had become a job that had grown on her… mostly.

The patrons, most of whom were grabby and perverted and rude and… gross, she could live without. The floor manager who was nothing short of terrifying was someone she would’ve been happy to have never known. Not to mention having to knock back drinks despite both having the worst alcohol tolerance known to mankind and being below the drinking age in the states.

But the girls? The girls had become some of her closest friends. She didn’t have many girl friends, and with only one real, good friend at university, it was nice to have other people to talk to. People who understood her struggle and what she had to deal with. She learned plenty about the world and the way it worked that she never knew before and had people on her side in a country where she didn’t have a lot of support. The club’s house mom was like the mother she had back in Sheffield. They were a little family, the girls at the Lighthouse— always there for each other.

The boost in self-esteem and confidence she had gotten, too, was something she was incredibly grateful for.

Jemma knew she had little time to waste, though, and the second she had opened her locker, she was already pulling off her cardigan. She wasted no time in shoving that in her locker, followed quickly by her shirt and the white, cotton bra she had worn for the day. Going to classes had been all about comfort and convenience, but nights were all about cranking the sex appeal to the max. Months ago the very thought of dressing like this was nothing short of terrifying, but now she had honestly grown to love it. Simmons didn’t exactly have any intentions on wearing Pleasers and tube tops to her labs, but it helped give her an appreciation of herself and her body that the young woman had never thought about before.

Now she had stripped naked, taking a moment to look herself down, though it didn’t take long for her to pull a grimace on her face. She’d need to get a new pedicure soon, and a trim or a shave or a wax or **_something_**.

On went her top, a skimpy bikini top that left just enough to the imagination, and a tiny thong that barely covered her arse. After that, she had pulled her hair up and had put on a platinum blonde wig. **_No one_** could find out that she was a stripper. She didn’t want— or **_need_** — that hell on her. Jemma had full well learned what other young women who did sex work received, and the thought of some horrible people making it their mission to destroy her life before she got out of medical school was terrifying. Once her clothes were packed up, she headed to the mirrors with her makeup, still in a tizzy as she heard the sound from the front start to wind down.

“Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” she mumbled to herself, applying a lot of blush, a rather nice and quick smoky eye if she said so herself, and a glossy lip liner. By the time she was done, she was nigh unrecognizable as Jemma Simmons. Even looking in the mirror there was a brief moment of surprise as the face in the mirror was so starkly different than the one she wore on a daily basis.

The now platinum blonde grabbed her brush and started to work on teasing her hair as the song from the front started to fade out, now replaced by low, electronic beats to fill in the lack of noise and performance. Moments later a Latina woman started to strut into the changing room, pulling on her underwear.

“Good crowd out there tonight, Yo-Yo?” she had asked, offering a smile as the older woman sat on one of the chairs, grabbing her water bottle and taking a long drink.

“Definitely. Quake’s out on the floor now. Friday night, lots of people. Money is going to be **_good_**.”

There was that, at least.

“When do you reach the point where you stop feeling a pit in your stomach?” Jemma asked as she was now pulling on the six inch heels that left her towering over most. The red of her “outfit” was stark against pale skin, and she was getting ready to go out as the beginning of her music started to play.

“You’ll get used to it soon enough,” she returned simply, offering a slight, almost knowing smile.

Suddenly she heard the voice of the DJ and her hands instinctively balled up into fists, clenching hard.

With a hard gulp, she steadied herself, putting on a cool mask, and then strutted onto the stage. It was time for another night of gross men, dollar bills, and taking her clothes off.

Fitz had remained grumpy the whole trip down to wherever the hell they were going, arms folded, body slumped in the back passenger seat, with a scowl on his face. All he wanted was to go right to sleep— maybe grab some junk food first— and not have to think about doing anything, especially going out.

However, his curiosity took hold of him and had his head perking up as the car started to slow, and when Fitz saw the club they were coming up on, he flushed and his eyes went wide. 

“You guys are seriously taking me to a strip club? No bloody way! No! Nuh uh!” he had immediately started shouting, and Trip and Hunter couldn’t stop themselves from laughing, while Mack let out a soft chuckle and shook his head.

Mack didn’t stop, though, and instead pulled over to park the car. Hunter had immediately hopped out and yanked the door open, reaching in to grab Fitz and pull him out of the car. Fitz continued to shout protests that weren’t even being listened to. 

“Fitz! It’s your twenty-first birthday! The drinks, the dances, all on us tonight! You can’t say no!” Trip exclaimed as he and Mack rounded the car, a wide smile on his face.

“Oh yes I can!” he shouted as he tried to make his way back to the car, but then his shoulders were gripped— hard— and he gave up. It couldn’t be that bad, right? It was just a strip club. Some ladies could… do whatever ladies in strip clubs did to his friends and he would put up with that for a few hours. Worst case scenario, he could get absolutely blitzed and have to be taken back to his dorm. Quietly, he accepted his defeat with slumped shoulders and a downwards gaze.

When the group of men had entered, Fitz’s eyes instantly squinted, nearly shut due to all the bright lights that were feeding in. The loud noises had also left him on tilt, and he scrunched up his face for a few moments, hoping to gather himself, before he was patted on the back. His eyes slowly opened, at which he was immediately greeted with the sight of a woman on the stage taking her bra off. She was gorgeous, yes, but Fitz was instantly bright red, stammering out some sort of nervous sounds as he had tried to turn and run out of the place— but of course, was instantly stopped.

“C’mon, Fitzy, you don’t want to get a look up close? Isn’t this the first time you’ve seen a woman topless?” Hunter joked as Fitz jabbed him in the side with his elbow.

“I’ve watched porn before. I’ve seen plenty of tits! This is nothing new to me,” he sneered, about ready to shoot a glare his friend’s way, but couldn’t help but stare at the woman still. Her gyrating movements, the way she could climb the pole with no issue, spin around, do the splits… it had him mesmerized.

When the guys were able to tear their attention from the stage, they couldn’t help but look towards Fitz with smirks, all playfully jabbing at each other, knowing they had done a good job. They had managed to turn dour, stoic Fitz, a man who had barely shown interest in more than his coursework, into a drooling man. The type of man he had sworn he’d never be.

“Didn’t know a woman like her was your flavor, Turbo. We’re gonna have to get you a couple dances from her,” Mack said with a soft chuckle. Of course, they were all checking her out and even if Fitz was suddenly feeling far more lecherous than he’d want to be, he had to admit… this was nice. Certainly not as bad as he expected. Except the tightening feeling in his pants wasn’t something he wanted right now. Last thing he would’ve ever wanted was to make a mess and embarrass himself and his mates right out the gate.

The song had ended and Fitz was still just about drooling. Before he could realize it, he was being dragged forward.

“C’mon, let’s get a better view for the next girl. I’ll go pick up some beers for us. Maybe let one of the girls walking around know it’s your birthday.” Before Fitz could react, Mack was off, and Fitz let out a sigh, telling himself that he was just going along with this to get his friends off his back. Though deep in his gut he started to have a feeling it was for a far different reason.

His eyes had quickly gotten glued back to the stage as the music started to swell again into a new song, and Fitz could feel his toes curl in his shoes at the suspense of it all. The voice of the DJ suddenly broke through the first notes.

“It’s time to welcome to the stage one of our favorite blonde beauties! You know her, you love her, so let’s say hello to Beryl!”

Beryl? Well… wasn’t the type of name he expected. But it was a gem name, and the little he knew, they were normally named after precious stones, weren’t they? Ruby, Sapphire, that type of thing.

When the woman came on stage though, it took a few moments, Fitz feeling like he recognized her from… **_somewhere_** , but as soon as she had grabbed onto the pole, it had all clicked.

Jemma?

There was no way… they were friends— best friends— and she would’ve told him about this… she wasn’t even the stripper type! He wasn’t quite sure he’d go as far as “pure”, but she definitely seemed more like that than she appeared to be now. She was in skimpy underwear, she was magically blonde, and now she was spinning around on a pole, showing off artistry and athleticism he never thought was possible from her.

Honestly? He was in awe. He was shocked to his core, knowing that Jemma Simmons was doing this, but… in awe at the same time. He wanted to look away— he felt like it was only right if he did. At the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to. 

He didn’t **_want_** to, and just kept his gaze glued to her, enraptured by her completely.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another new chapter that is starting to get hotter and heavier. I want to thank LastAstronaut for again, looking over this chapter, and I hope you all enjoy! Because I had a *lot* of fun writing it.

The second her hand had settled on the pole, fingers gently wrapping around it, bright red nail polish stark against the silver, a surge of confidence rushed through her like it had each night before. She started by arching her back, then bent forward, letting her breasts fall and cleavage show as the song started. “Feeling Myself”, by Beyoncé and Nicki Minaj. It wasn’t the type of music she had listened to much of before she got this job, but it had definitely grown on her plenty— and the entire crowd was always driven wild at the mentions of the words “pipe” and “daddy” (something Jemma had only learned recently once one of her coworkers filled her in) and mentioning “giving brain like NYU”, given the proximity to the campus.

She started to fall forward, foot hooked around behind the pole to keep herself steady, aiming to pull herself back up and around, she noticed someone far too familiar who was front and center, gawking at her like some sort of… prized show cow.  
Fitz.

What the hell was he doing here? He had never mentioned going to the Lighthouse, let alone any strip club— he wasn’t even the type to go here. What the hell was going on?

The sudden panic that flooded through Jemma caused her to lose focus, and her hand slipped, nearly falling face first onto the stage. She let go of the pole and quickly grabbed it with her other hand, spinning back around backwards, and then switched her foot to hook her other leg around and spun around a few times, riding on the momentum she had. Dollar bills were already raining on the stage, which somehow managed to leave her feeling a bit lighter considering the circumstances.

Despite the sudden appearance of her best friend, she was really getting into her groove with the song, and though the fear in regards to Fitz’s presence still held strong in her gut, the nerves she was facing just before she came out on stage were gone. All she had to do was not focus on Fitz— especially considering the fact that he was still laser focused on her, as if looking away would leave him dead.

Finally, she started to slow, body dropping as Jemma rounded the pole again and again until her knees settled on the stage. She rose not long after, hands trailing along her legs, her hips, along her breasts, and then above her head to grab onto the pole. For just a moment, her eyes scanned across the crowd, just a brief moment on Fitz and his friends, before she left the ground. She used her arms to make another rotation around the pole, and then used her legs to keep herself in place as she was halfway up the pole. With deft precision, nimble fingers reached behind her back to unclasp the top, letting it slide down her arms before she yanked it off, a demure grin coming onto her face as she held it into the air and let it drop moments later.

The crowd started to burst into applause, hooting, cheering, and hollering, and even more dollars started to rain on the stage. Fitz’s friends seemed into the performance, and Fitz still stared at her as if she were the only thing that ever existed.

She remained held up for a few moments, before she slowly started to spin down the pole, holding on with her arm and leg, before she finally touched down on the stage, head now held up with eyes closed, legs spread open, before she slowly slid down. When she was touching the stage, she brought her legs up into the air, and then moved them outwards into a split.

In a sudden crash of sound, her heels hit the stage hard. Jemma pulled herself up onto her knees, and slowly crawled forward, until she was nearly face to face with the crowd. Right after, she turned around and rolled onto her back, bringing her legs into the air, and started to shake them, her calves, thighs, and arse jiggling, the feeling of cold dollars hitting against her skin nearly causing her to shiver.

Though she still had the thong on, it wasn’t lost on her that she was basically on display for Fitz. At the end, she had gotten back on her hands and knees, now facing away from the crowd, and held onto the pole. She shook her arse again, eliciting more cheers from the crowd as she shook. When the song finally ended, she stood up and threw a glance over her shoulder for just a moment, then strutted off the stage to head into the back. 

“That was Beryl! Damn! Isn’t she great!” the DJ had called out, the words a blur to Jemma as she tried to gain her composure backstage.

That was Jemma Simmons. His best friend. The girl he had always thought was beautiful, considered asking out once or twice (well, more, in actuality), was gyrating and spinning on a pole. She was holding herself up with just her legs. She was shaking each and every part of her body. And, oh, her breasts were right there. And they looked incredible-- far better than he could’ve ever imagined they would. Fitz… honestly couldn’t believe it. If someone were to have asked him if he thought Jemma Simmons was a stripper, he would’ve lost that bet every time.

Mack had come back and handed Fitz a bottle of beer. There was no resistance from him, and as soon as it was in hand, he took a long drink, still focused on Jemma’s performance. Everything else had fallen away, and he was barely even cognizant of how his friends, like everyone else who was crowded around the stage, had been tossing her dollars. The very idea of it felt so… **_wrong_**. Like it denied her of her personhood or something. If that was the way of showing how “into it” he was, Fitz was certainly tempted, though for now he held back and simply continued to watch.

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to reconcile with the idea of throwing dollars at a mostly naked Jemma Simmons.

But that left one question suddenly careening into his mind: would he get a dance from her? Would he acknowledge that it was her? Pretend he didn’t know her? That would’ve been the polite thing to do, right? She had been wearing a wig after all, but he had no idea what to say or do in those moments. Hell, why was she doing all of this in the first place? Part of him wanted to shout to her, even while she was on stage, but he figured that it would attract far too much attention from, well, everyone, and it didn’t exactly seem polite.

Though honestly, he wasn’t sure he could resist a dance from her. 

Seeing her breasts and what he could easily see from her relative lack of underwear… it was all more than Fitz had anticipated, especially from his best friend. If he wasn’t already bright red before, he was just about sweating now, watching as her dance ended and she started to walk away, arse jiggling gently as she did. His jaw had quite literally dropped and he was only barely pulled from his thoughts by Hunter clapping him on the shoulder.

“Mate, I thought you had eyes for that first lady, but damn, you’re really into blondes, huh?” Hunter asked, a wide grin as the group of them laughed— all except for Fitz, who was still stunned silent. “So, c’mon, let’s start getting you some birthday lap dances. Be careful, though, you already look like you’re about to burst. Don’t want to embarrass yourself,” he added with a cheeky grin, before Fitz glared at him.

“I’m not gonna come in my trousers, ok?” he snapped, at which they all took a half step back, jokingly holding up their hands, but snickering all the while.

“C’mon, we’re just messing around. It’s your twenty-first, let’s start getting it into gear. Who do you want your very first lap dance from? The Latin woman? What was her name… Yo-Yo? She seems like she’d take you for a real ride,” Mack said as he craned his neck to try and catch sight of the girls walking the floor.

“Or there’s Quake?” Trip asked as he nodded over towards the bar.

“…Why’s her name Quake?” Fitz asked, confusion in his voice, as the group of them turned to look at a woman near the bar whose top was barely able to contain her breasts, her skirt was a piece of fabric that didn’t even cover half her arse, and her underwear was just as skimpy as that of the other girls’.

“Probably because of the way that ass moves, man. Look at that… **_shit_**. Fitz, if you don’t get a dance from her, I think I’m gonna have to. No way I can pass that up.” Trip was now staring, as were they all, and not a single one had qualms with it.

They were all attractive— far too attractive for him, Fitz felt, as he stood there awkwardly. A bright red blush quickly came onto his face in full force as he looked at all of the women around. Quake, Yo-yo, a tall blonde woman that Hunter was already making eyes at… but no Jemma.

“Seriously Turbo, this is all for you. You need to pick a girl. Get some dances in, something— anything. At least get another beer.”

“Beryl… her. The, uh… the blonde. Her.”

“After seeing her work I don’t blame you. Guess you like your girls wild, huh?” Trip asked with a playful jab from his elbow as Fitz looked away for a moment to try futilely at hiding his blush.

They were right— he didn’t go for blondes, he figured they were definitely too much for him to handle. Hell, he didn’t go for women in general, really. And Jemma wasn’t a blonde. Unless brown wasn’t her natural hair color? It was all confusing and he just wanted to figure out what was going on.

“She doesn’t seem to be out on the floor. Maybe she’ll be back soon— hey, Quake, right?” Trip called, waving the woman over, and as she came closer, that blush came back full force on Fitz’s face as he saw just how attractive she was up close. Not to mention how he was still taken aback by, well, the entire situation.

“Hey guys! First time here? Can I get you all some more drinks? A dance, maybe?” she asked with a bright smile and cheery voice. Not even a second later he was pushed forward, almost bumping into her, and Fitz quickly moved his hands away from her.

“Sorry! Sorry…” he mumbled as Trip cleared his throat.

“It’s our buddy’s twenty-first. So we brought him to your lovely establishment to celebrate. Don’t suppose you’d be willing to give him a dance? We’re paying for him tonight, so feel free to go nuts.”

“I would be **_happy_** to,” Quake said, voice thick with flirtation, before she grabbed his hand. Trip leaned over to place some bills into the band of her skirt, and Quake led Fitz to a nearby chair and gingerly set her hands on his shoulder to gently lower him into the seat.

Not long after, a new song had started up as another girl had gotten on stage, and Quake had quickly gotten to work, starting to grind on him while Fitz’s eyes were wide, staring at her as he bit down hard on his lip.

He still wanted to find Jemma— Beryl?— but right now? This was proving to be a good distraction until she popped back out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this fic is slowly starting to heat up more! Next chapter will be a Big One, too-- though there will be a small delay because it is one of the chapters I haven't written yet, so apologies in advance for however long the wait may be!
> 
> Once again, many thanks to LastAstronaut for making sure this was suitably hot enough!

Almost immediately Fitz had to bite back a grunt of pleasure, though it dissipated far too quickly as the woman removed herself from his lap not long after. The man almost let out a whimper of protest, but Quake was quick to get back onto his lap. Fitz was already squirming in his seat, starting to feel his cock twitch at the sudden sensations he was feeling.

“This your first time here?” Quake asked, and Fitz gulped hard, nodding slowly, though he knew she couldn’t see.

“Y-Yeah… I’m not really much of a strip club guy…” he squeaked out nervously, glancing over to his friends, who were standing over towards the bar, watching him, all with shit eating grins on their faces.

“Really? That’s a shame. You’re great company,” Quake told him playfully. Of course, with Fitz feeling as awkward as he was and his hands were kept at his sides.

“O-oh. Thanks. I’m sorry, I’m just kind of… nervous,” he told her shyly, and Quake let out a giggle.

“Hey, it’s your first time, I get that. But you’re doing good, you just need to sit back and relax. Just have some fun,” she teased, which left Fitz bright red. Quake quickly took his wrist and brought his hand to her ass as she continued to grind up on his crotch. A squeak escaped Fitz as he brought his hand away and sat on it. Now he was more embarrassed than before (if that were somehow possible) and he internally cursed upon hearing Hunter bust out into laughter from across the club.

He let out a breath he’d been holding in when she moved off his lap, feeling a wave of relief hit him. However, Quake had immediately bent forward, starting to twerk mere inches from his face. Fitz choked, clenching his hands together as tight as he could and bit down hard on his lower lip in hopes of stifling any and all noises that were bound to escape him at a moment’s notice.

“What do you think? Do you like?” Quake asked, but to Fitz it was all just white noise that went in one ear and out the other. His eyes were still zoned out as Quake stopped and turned around, Fitz only snapping out of his stupor after a few moments.

A small sound of protest fell from his lips, but it didn’t take long for Quake to get back to work, now sitting on his lap, nearly straddling the man, breasts in Fitz’s face as she worked on grinding on him again.

Another strangled cry came from Fitz, and he dug his nails into the sides of his legs in hopes of controlling himself, but with each movement Quake had made against his crotch he could feel himself heat up more and more. His body felt like it was on fire, almost, which in any other situation would’ve been disconcerting (and even was here to an extent), and he was only barely keeping himself from coming right then and there by pushing his legs together. It was an experience he wasn’t sure when (or if) he would have, and while the feeling was amazing, he was just trying to make sure he didn’t **_actually_** get off.

The raw lust was dizzying, and Fitz felt as if he was seeing stars, with each movement, gentle or not, against his lap, he felt more and more full, his body quivering at her very touch, and his cock.

The song started to wrap up, and the guys walked back over, Quake rubbing on his cock just one last time before standing up, arching her back.

“That was fun. If you want another dance, just let me know,” she said, Fitz nodding mutely as he leaned forward to place a tip in the band of her skirt.

“So how’d it feel, my man?” Trip asked him, while Fitz was still dizzied from the whole experience.

“…Feels like I’m about to burst in my pants…” he muttered, and Quake couldn’t stop herself from letting out a loud laugh.

“What can I say, I’m good at my job,” she had said, while Fitz had now gone back to trying to find who he had wanted to find since he saw her on stage: Beryl.

As soon as Jemma had reached backstage, she sat down, not even bothering to grab her water as she instead went to panic, all of the adrenaline having been drained from her in an instant. Yo-Yo, now dressed back in her “uniform” of a similarly skimpy outfit as the rest of them, went over to sit next to her.

“What’s wrong, chica? You did good out there, I thought.”

“It’s not that, it’s… shit, shit!” Jemma was panicking now, she knew it, and she couldn’t help it. She brought two fingers up to each of her temples, trying to calm herself in some manner by massaging them, but that didn’t help in the slightest. Yo-Yo, like the rest of the girls, had seen this before from Jemma, but not since her first weeks at the club. Although she knew she’d need to head back out there soon to get to making money, she had time to help the younger woman out— sisterhood was important.

“Ok, you’re worrying me now, what’s wrong?”

“I saw one of my friends out there. He was right in front, watching me spin and dangle and was staring at all my… bits.”

Yo-Yo saw the concern in her eyes, but at the same time, she couldn’t help but laugh at her words.

“What!?”

“I haven’t heard you say the word ‘bits’ since, what, your second week here? Damn, he must really get you flustered. You like him or something?” she asked as she quirked a brow, unafraid to indulge in some gossip.

By now, Jemma had taken a long drink from a water bottle, letting out a sigh as she scrunched her mouth up. “Yo-Yo! It’s not like that, he’s my best friend. I wouldn’t even have the **_time_** to date considering my academic career and this.”

“C’mon, I’m sure he didn’t recognize you. Look at you, you’re all made up. Shit, I barely recognize you when you get cleaned up to go home, sometimes,” she joked, all in hopes of having her feel better.

“He was gawking at me. Which means either he’s never seen a woman nearly naked before or he recognized me. Or both,” she sighed, shaking her head, stomach in knots at the very thought that he would be out there when she went back out soon enough. While Fitz’s own sexual activity was of no business to Jemma, the young woman definitely didn’t know how to feel about herself potentially being the first woman her best friend saw naked.

“Beryl, you’re gonna be fine. If he recognizes you, just play it off. Shoot him some flirty looks as you get up in his business. I guarantee he’ll forget all about thinking he knows you and more concerned with tossing money your way,” she assured her, placing a hand on Jemma’s in hopes of helping her out.

“…You think? All I want right now is to leave,” Simmons sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

“You will be fine. Promise. Now come on, we should get out there before boss gets mad at us,” she said, offering Jemma an encouraging smile, which Jemma barely managed to return.

Yo-Yo was right, it would be alright. She’d get through tonight, go home, and send Fitz a text to give herself some sort of alibi, and it would all be ok.

Jemma stood up and leaned forward to give Yo-Yo a hug, which Yo-Yo returned gladly.

“Thanks for that. I really needed it,” she said when she finally pulled away, her smile just a bit bigger now.

“Hey, someone has to hold down the fort until May gets back. Now let’s get out there and get paid,” she said with the smallest bit of a grin as she nodded towards the door to the main room of the club. With a deep breath, she followed behind Yo-Yo and stepped back into the club, looking around to survey the room and figure out where to make money first.

Her eyes finally settled on seeing Quake finishing up a lap dance with Fitz, still feeling those same nerves as she did back during her pole dance. She took in a deep breath and remembered Yo-Yo’s advice, then put on a smile as she strutted along. Already she could notice plenty of eyes on her, but before she could walk to a man who was starting to wave a small wad of bills, she heard a voice call out and turned to see one of Fitz’s friends waving to her.

“Hey hey hey, Beryl! I think my friend wants a dance or two from you!” Trip called out to her, waving her over. Immediately, her stomach dropped, but she still managed to maintain her facade.

“I’ll be right back,” she winked to the man before walking over to Fitz and his friends.

With hands on her hips and a tilt to her head, she made her way over to the group of men, unable to help but look at Fitz right away. He seemed terrified of the situation, and she could only imagine how a lap dance from Quake wouldn’t have helped.

“Well, I’d be happy to,” she chirped, turning her attention back to Trip, who seemed to be taking far too much joy out of this situation, “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Our buddy Fitz, right here,” he told her as he clapped both of his hands on Fitz’s shoulders, “It’s his twenty-first birthday, so we’re giving him a special night,” he added. Jemma mentally cursed, now remembering the one thing she forgot that day: to text Fitz happy birthday when she had woken up that morning. Test or not, she could’ve at least taken the few minutes to give him a birthday message. Either this situation she was now placed in was making up for it or some sort of strange karma.

“Really? Happy birthday! The big two-one, huh? I need to give you a special dance for that, I think,” she cooed with a cheshire cat-like grin. Yo-yo was right, she just needed to play it up. Be absolutely nothing like Jemma Simmons. She shot a glance towards Quake over at the bar, who smiled at her and went on her own way to another man. Simmons had a very strong feeling she’d be telling her all about this later on.

“Hey… Beryl, right? How much do those private rooms cost?” Hunter had asked before she could settle on Fitz’s lap, which, admittedly, brought a bit of relief.

“If you have to ask, you can’t afford it,” she teased, voice flirtatious as she looked up to him, then glanced at Fitz, who was still quiet as could be and bright red.

“It’s our friend’s big day, and he really wanted you to dance for him, so we just wanted to see,” Mack reasoned, and Jemma looked back to Fitz, who couldn’t even look at her now. He was staring down at his lap, his hands fidgeting together, and while the image was a bit adorable, she felt bad for how his friends had just put him on the spot.

“VIP room is going to be one hundred fifty for fifteen minutes or two hundred eighty for a half hour,” she explained, at which point the group of men near Fitz looked away, Hunter letting out a low whistle. Hopefully that meant they couldn’t afford it, because that would be a relief. She wasn’t sure even fifteen minutes alone with Fitz as Beryl would be something she could handle.

“You see guys, that’s **_way_** too much. I’ll just— I’ll just get a dance from her, we can get some beers, and we’ll go home,” Fitz rattled off quickly, nerves high in his voice, and Jemma glanced to the side for a moment, feeling suitably awkward. Mack, Trip, and Hunter went quiet, and then took a few steps to the side, huddling together to talk to themselves.

Not even a minute later the group broke apart and Mack cleared his throat, taking a step forward, “Hey, Beryl, so it’s one fifty for fifteen, right?” he asked, and Jemma felt her stomach drop.

Oh no.

“Good customers usually give tips, too, considering how hard we work in there,” she said coyly, giving a wink that felt wrong in these moments considering how she felt.

“Ok, we’ll do it. Here’s the hundred fifty,” he said, starting to pull money from his wallet, “and I’ll give Fitz some money for a tip,” Mack finished, handing Jemma a bundle of bills that she looked at with a raised eyebrow.

“You know… most men usually put these in my underwear or bra,” she said before tucking it in her top. “Well, let’s go, Fitz,” she added in a low, husky voice. She started to saunter off to a small room off to the side. She looked over her shoulder to Fitz and waved for him to follow, before disappearing behind the curtain. After a push forward from Hunter, Fitz finally felt his legs work again, and quickly s tumbled into the private room behind her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize a *lot* for this chapter taking so long. Given all that's going on in the world and how tough things have been at times, writing erotic stuff hasn't been the easiest at times. I had to really sit down and push through this chapter, so I hope you all like it! I do have a small handful of chapters that are halfway to mostly done, so you won't have to wait as long soon enough! So please enjoy this chapter, I am pretty proud of it in the end. And once again, big thanks to LastAstronaut for reading this beforehand!

When Fitz entered the VIP room, Beryl was already bent over, looking at an MP3 player that was hooked up to a small speaker. Although he had already seen her up close and personal, he could feel himself flush deeply. His face and crotch, in particular, felt hot, and he simply stood there, just staring at her like a slack-jawed creep.

Meanwhile, Jemma’s own stomach was in tight knots, a wave of nausea washing over that would’ve had her doubled over had she not already been leaning forward to get the music ready. Finally, she had turned on some slow R&B, letting her hands trail along her legs, her arse, waist, cupping her breasts, and then moving her hands above her head, clasping them together as she started to gyrate her hips along with the music. Yo-Yo was right, she just had to play up her whole routine and Fitz would be none the wiser.

Clearing his throat, Fitz finally spoke up.

“Jemma?”

Jemma felt herself freeze, the words fully processed when she turned around. Terror coursed through her and though she wanted to run, instead she kept moving, now running her hands through her hair, before letting them trace down her body again. A look of concern started to fully settle on Fitz’s face.

“Jemma? Jemma no one else is here, we can talk.”

She stopped, letting her arms fall to her side, eyebrows furrowed as she looked at him.

“Beryl,” she told him simply, doing her best to force some semblance of an American accent (and rather poorly at that) before she folded her arms.

“Jemma, c’mon, this isn’t funny,” he insisted, “Why are you here? Why are you… you know— doing this stuff?” he asked.

Jemma could feel her face heat up from anger. **_This stuff_**? Was he judging her because she was a stripper? Yet **_he_** went to a strip club anyways? How could he possibly judge her? And what was wrong with her being a stripper? She was still one of, if not the top med student at NYU, she just needed to pay for university. Her stomach was in knots and a swell of emotions were rushing through her, and a large part of her wanted to storm out solely from how disrespectful he was.

She would’ve expected to hear things like that from a lot of people, but not Fitz.

“My name is Beryl. Your friends said you wanted me to dance for you, but do you actually want this?” she asked, starting to listen to the music again. She then brought her arms above her head, hands clasped, and started to once again sway along with the music.

Fitz was once again stunned silent as he watched her, bright red still, and mesmerized by her movements. He continued to look at her, unable to help but wonder in those moments if that really wasn’t Jemma. The face was so much like hers, and her voice, too… but the way she was dressed, the way she acted, how she moved… there was no way it could be her. It was nothing like his best friend.

“Uh… y-yeah. Yeah. W-w-what do you need me to do?” he asked, swallowing hard before he licked his bottom lip.

“Just sit down, relax, and let me make sure you have a good time,” she said, voice low and breathy, “Just don’t touch here and you can do what you want,” she said, before her hands trailed down her body, making a heart shape to frame her crotch. She could see Fitz turn an even brighter red than he had already been and heard him choke, still as could be.

Jemma gingerly placed her fingers on Fitz’s shoulders, guiding him to sit on the small, plush couch that was tucked in the room, her best friend still moon-eyed as he stared at her.

This had definitely been something he would’ve wanted— to have Jemma with him like this— but he hadn’t had the courage to ask her out. Now Jemma— Beryl?— was going to grind on him. He could touch her arse, her waist, her hips. To have a good time. What was a fantasy that crept into his mind from time to time had now become reality.

Her hips swiveled in a tight circle, Jemma once again bringing her hands down to her breasts, squeezing them and then pushing them together, bending forward to give him a full view of her cleavage. She slowly moved towards the ground, before she settled on her knees, arched her back, and then ran her hands through her hair again.

Then, she lowered herself onto her hands and slowly crawled towards Fitz, the look in her eyes nothing short of lustful. She could tell that he was scared and he had started to press his back into the cushion. He almost seemed like he wanted to get away, and with what was happening, in a way she couldn’t blame him.

Once she was in front of him, she slowly pushed herself up from the ground, letting her hands rest on his knees as she looked up at him. Now Jemma was balancing on her knees, legs raised behind her, as she let her hands slowly creep up his legs, letting her fingers walk along them. That coy grin was still on her face, and she could see clear as day that Fitz was biting down on his lip.

Jemma started to push herself up from the ground, leaning over Fitz, allowing her breasts to hang in his face for a few moments. As soon as he took in a breath, she climbed into his lap, spreading her legs open.

“You like?” she asked in a breathy whisper.

All Fitz could do was slowly nod, eyes wide as could be as he stared at her, looking her up and down.

If this was Jemma, then he’d certainly gotten the best birthday gift imaginable.

Slowly she began to move her hips alongside his lap, swaying her body back and forth to the music as the next song had come on. Her lower body shifted as her upper body gyrated, moving in rhythm with the music, rubbing her crotch against his for just a moment, then stopping, before repeating the process several more times.

It wasn’t long before Jemma placed her hands on his chest, pressing the line of her body against his gently. She quietly hummed along to the music for a moment, letting herself grind into Fitz’s crotch yet again. Then, she leaned in, blowing into his ear before saying a sentence he never thought he would hear.

“Do you want to touch me?” she asked quietly, the words echoing for Fitz despite how quiet they were. His eyes were wide, and suddenly his mouth felt dry, trying to find any words— especially considering how loud they were all screaming in his head.

Jemma was wondering how he had managed to survive this long at this rate.

It took a moment, but Fitz slowly nodded, still unable to speak. Jemma wordlessly took his hand and placed it on her hip, before pulling back. She tilted her head, though the smile that was starting to form on her face was anything but innocent.

“See, it’s not that bad, huh? You can keep your hand there if you want, Fitz.”

The way she had said his name, Fitz could feel his cock twitch again, and Jemma was suddenly hyper aware of it rubbing against her, though she managed to keep her composure.

“Oh god, oh shite— I’m… I’m sorry.” Fitz was bright red now, half ready to run out of there in embarrassment. This hadn’t happened with Quake, why did it have to happen with Beryl in a private room? A look of horror was just about plastered on his face, and all he could think about was how creepy he’d just come off from this, and quietly hoped— prayed, even— that he wouldn’t actually come in his trousers with her on his lap.

“Shh, it’s a compliment,” she cooed quietly, internally grimacing all the while. It was a compliment technically, but it was still something Jemma was never prepared for. Even though she’d been doing this for a little while now, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to get used to feeling a stranger’s erection. Especially from the sleazy men who had been far too drunk and handsy and felt that they had the right to grab and grope anywhere they wanted. At least Fitz wasn’t the type to do that, though.

How **_much_** of his erection she could feel, though, was incredibly noticeable. As she had continued to move along his lap, grinding herself into his crotch, it was clear just how big he was, and she couldn’t stop her mouth from dropping open a bit. How did Fitz manage to… contain all of this on a daily basis? Her mind stopped for a minute, realizing just how she was thinking about **_that_** before rationalizing it that she was just noticing his erection platonically. Totally.

It took a moment, but finally she snapped back to reality, settling on his lap once again as she brought her arms behind her, undoing the clasp of her top and letting it fall onto her lap, before she brushed it aside onto the floor. Now her breasts were front and center, dusky pink nipples set against pale skin, and Fitz couldn’t stop himself from staring. If it was up to him, he’d never look away from this sight again— if there was a way he could stay here with Beryl sat in his lap, he gladly would. What he wouldn’t give to hold those in his hand. He didn’t even know what he would do with them, but he just wanted to… feel them.

He was pulled out of his hormone-induced stupor when he heard the lilt of Beryl’s voice ring in his ears and finally register in his mind.

“So what do you do?” she asked, voice soft and sweet, Jemma still trying to do what she could with the vocal fry of her voice in any hope of sounding different.

“O-Oh, well, I’m, uh… I’m getting my doctorate right now. In engineering,” he told her, only managing to stumble over some of his words rather than most of them like earlier.

“Ohh… you must be so smart,” Jemma said as she wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing herself to continue moving her hips back and forth, now firmly set against his cock, as close to riding him now just short of **_actually_** doing so. Fitz blushed a bright red and couldn’t stop himself from nervously giggling at the compliment, which Jemma found endearingly sweet.

“I mean, yeah, I am. Yeah,” he mumbled, doing all he could to steel himself during what was happening, though a smile was still able to break through onto his face.

“What kind of smart things do you do?” she asked curiously, though she already knew full well everything Fitz learned on a daily basis— she had helped him with plenty of his work just as he had with her. She already knew that if he could get the words out, he’d say—

“Well, uh, propulsion systems. My main project right now is to try and figure out how to refine maglev— mag-magnetic levitation— in order to implement it cross-country for widespread, easy to use and access public transportation,” he explained, before Jemma got up from his lap, going back to swaying and dancing in front of him. It wasn’t lost on her how Fitz clenched his legs together, and at least Simmons could appreciate how good she was at her job. Though there was a touch of irritation at how he assumed she didn’t know what maglev was.

“You don’t mind if I take these off, do you?” she asked as she pointed to her thong, tilting her head in an oh so innocent way that she could immediately tell got Fitz more riled up than before, if his clenched jaw was any indication.

“If— if you want. Yeah, sure you can,” he nodded quickly. Jemma was quick to pull them off, letting them fall to the floor near her bikini top. She then moved in front of Fitz, whose eyes were now even wider than he would’ve thought possible as her nethers were now directly in his face. All of the air was pushed out of his lungs and his mind was at a loss of what to do, basically short-circuited and leaving him a drooling, mumbling, bumbling idiot.

Were Fitz able to function more coherently, he could only imagine all of the things he’d love to do with that… at least with what little he knew. A sad whimper bubbled from his lips as she turned around, but as soon as Jemma had bent over and given him a full view of her backside, there wasn’t even a whisper of a complaint from Fitz.

Jemma grabbed onto her ankles to help steady herself, before shaking her ass and legs like she had done on stage not too long ago. Fitz was quick to clasp his hands together, setting them firmly on his lap to try and contain and control himself as best as he could. But with the way her body and arse moved, with how close she was, he could feel himself ready to burst at any moment.

He wasn’t sure whether it was a curse or a blessing, but when she sat in his lap moments later, completely naked save for her heels, Fitz immediately had to bite down on his lower lip. It wasn’t helped at all when she turned halfway, wrapping her arms around his neck again, and flashing a brilliant smile. Every single bit of this woman was absolute, utter perfection.

“You been having a good time?” came honeyed words after just a moment, Fitz feeling absolutely mesmerized as he looked into her eyes. The way her eyelashes fluttered and the way her smile lit up the dark, dingy room left Fitz wanting to stay there forever. How she was rubbed up on him, perfect arse perched on him, happy as could be, the way she was sitting and **_where_** exactly she was sitting leaving his pants feeling tighter than ever, but right now he couldn’t even think to grumble or worry. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol he had ingested, but he felt on top of the world and like he could have her in his lap all night.

“Good time is… definitely an understatement. You really know how to give a guy a great bloody birthday,” he breathed out, voice shaking in a way that didn’t embody the confidence he was feeling.

“I like to make sure people are well taken care of when they’re with me,” she winked, “I’m glad I could give you a good birthday, though,” she purred, letting her legs kick in the air slowly and absentmindedly. The act was easy to keep up, but it was something else entirely to make that performance for Fitz. Both having stripped down for him and been in the private room, but also having kept up her persona the entire time. In every other case fifteen minutes had gone by in a flash, but as soon as Fitz had come in through that curtain it felt like time had slowed to an absolute, utter crawl.

“Oh… thanks,” was all he managed to say, his face quickly turning bright red again.

The last song started to wrap up, and a tidal wave of relief washed over Jemma at that fact. Her arms untangled from his body, and she adjusted herself on his lap, setting her feet back on the floor. She raised herself just enough where she was hovering over him, before she went to grind against him again, rubbing her arse and crotch against his own for just a moment. One last tease, though it was easy to tell that he was harder than before, and she was only barely able to hold back a grimace.

She pulled away from him, and then for just a few moments, started her best attempt at a twerk in his face, judging by the silence that she had done a good job— and that he might have even passed out. Once she stopped, she bent over to pick up her thong, slipping that back on with ease, and then picked up her bikini top, pulling it on.

“You wouldn’t mind hooking me up, would you?” she asked sweetly, and though she couldn’t see it, she could only imagine how flustered Fitz was given the babbling sounds that spilled from his lips. She shivered when his fingers brushed against her back, waiting patiently as he fumbled with the clasp. When he was done, she turned to face him, a sweet smile plastered on her face as she batted her eyelashes at him. Her hands were clasped together, head tilted innocently.

“Thanks. I had a lot of fun, you know,” she told him, at which his own eyes went wide and his jaw dropped.

“Y-Yeah? Me too, but, uh…” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his head, “…You could probably tell pretty easily, huh?”

As opposed to a forced giggle, a real laugh escaped her, unable to find the words anything but endearing. While Jemma knew she’d never be able to tease him for this, it did help put her at ease just a bit in terms of his presence at the Lighthouse.

“Don’t worry, I’ve experienced plenty worse,” she assured him, lightly touching his arm, the smile far less bright than earlier but just as genuine as it was soft.

“Well, uh, good. I mean, that’s not good, but it is good that I wasn’t that bad,” he laughed nervously, eyes falling to the floor. She kept her smile up and led him out of the room, both of their eyes squinting for a moment as the lights came back in full force. Fitz could see Mack at the bar, though he couldn’t see Hunter or Trip right away, his neck craning around, before his attention shot back to Beryl.

“I need to give you this,” he said, pulling the small bundle of bills from his pocket and nervously moved his hand toward her waist. She giggled and hooked a thumb in the band of her thong’s waist to give him room to slide it in. The waist snapped back and Fitz quickly brought his hand back. Mack walked over, taking a long drink from his beer.

“He behave himself?” he asked, and Fitz shot a glare his way, but Jemma giggled.

“A perfect gentleman,” she cooed, sending a wink their way, before looking back out across the floor. “I’d love to stay and chat more, but I need to get back to work.” She paused for a moment, assuming a more flirtatious grin and a quirked brow.

“…Unless either of you would like a dance or some time in the VIP room?”

Fitz looked to Mack, then back to Beryl, then back to Mack, “You, uh… you don’t mind if I…” he trailed off, pointing shyly towards the curtained off room he had just come from.

“Go for it, Turbo, it’s your birthday.”

Without any other words or prompting, he had pulled another small wad of bills to hand to Fitz then winked at him.

Jemma took his hand and started to lead him back into the room they’d just come from, “Well, let’s go, Fitz.”

Fitz had no idea what was in store for him for the rest of the night, but he was starting to think he would like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to give a big thanks to LastAstronaut for coming up with the "totally platonic erections" bit, when she made that joke to me while I was writing that chapter and I had to use it. And if you like detective stories with cults and fantastic smut, I highly recommend you check out the fic she's writing right now!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to give a big big thanks to LastAstronaut, as always, for helping read all of this, and giving thoughts on the writing in this chapter and helping me feel better about all of it. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, as we now get to meet the owner of the Lighthouse.
> 
> The author does not condone the actions of the antagonists or attempt to glamorize their actions.

Two in the morning, the club had just closed with the last patrons having left minutes ago. Fitz and his friends had left a little while ago, and though most of the other women had left, Jemma was still finishing getting changed. Quake— Daisy now that she wasn’t working— was sitting in one of the chairs, waiting for her.

“So you’re going to tell me all about _**Fitzy**_ later, right?” she teased, waggling her eyebrows at Jemma, who was far too tired to argue and simply sighed.

“I just want to sleep. I am so ready for this night to be over, you have _**no**_ bloody idea,” Jemma said before shaking her head, finally pulling her cardigan back on and then pulled her hair into a ponytail.

“Money was good though, right?” Daisy asked as she once again started to count through the pile of bills she’d gotten, mouthing each number and smiling to herself.

“Oh my god, I think this paid for a third of my room and board. I’m pretty sure I won’t even need to take out any loans next semester,” she said, a smile on her face as she stuffed her last few things into her duffel. With makeup washed off and her wig back in her locker, she looked the stark opposite of Beryl, and definitely felt all of that energy from the night gone. The very thought that soon enough she’d be crawling into bed was giving her the rest of the power she needed to make it through the last bit of the night.

“So I’ll drop you off at your place and then I’ll head home,” Jemma called over to her as she closed the locker and hoisted the bag on her shoulder.

“And you’ll text me when you get back?”

“Of course.”

Footsteps and a knock on the wall sounding out caused the two to turn to one of the doors that led out onto the floor, seeing their boss Kasius now standing there. Jemma looked back to Daisy, then to their boss, offering him a smile.

“Daisy, I need to talk with Jemma in my office, but I have an Uber waiting for you out front. You go ahead,” he told her, his voice smooth and calm as his body language. Daisy looked to Jemma, giving her a slight nod.

“Oh. Well, I appreciate it, but Jemma was going to drop me off. I’ll just wait in the front for her,” she shrugged.

“I’m afraid it won’t be that quick. I also took care of the tip, so you won’t have to worry about a thing,” he said, his hands now clasped behind his back, “Just get home safe.”

Even Jemma could sense the tension in the air, silence filling the locker room, before Daisy finally cleared her throat, “Just text me when you get back to your place. I’ll text when I get home,” she said, before walking past Kasius, wanting to get the hell out of dodge as soon as possible. A small frown graced Jemma’s face, before she looked back to her boss.

“Come now, Jemma, I won’t keep you long,” he assured her, and Jemma nodded silently, dropping her duffel. She started to follow along behind him and stepped in as he held the door open for her, sitting down and looking around the office she had only been in a few times before. Kasius closed the door and walked past her, sitting down at his desk, his hands resting in his lap, before he looked Jemma up and down for a moment. It was the first time she had experienced this from her boss, and she felt like his gaze was almost piercing and especially intimidating in those moments.

“…I’m not in trouble, am I?” she asked, letting out a nervous laugh as she watched his face, which remained impassive and unreadable. She was nervous, but when he eventually let out a chuckle and shook his head, Jemma’s nerves started to ease.

Though she had interacted with her boss before, she hadn’t done so that much after the “interview”. Once she had gotten her job, she more or less had free reign as long as she gave the club’s share of money to him at the end of the night.

“No no, of course not, just a quick talk. I wanted to check in on you. To make sure everything was going ok. You seemed on edge throughout the night,” he said, and Jemma quickly shook her head.

“I’m fine, Kasius, but thank you,” she said quickly, the words tumbling from her mouth, “I just had a long day. I had a big test and I guess I’ve just been a little jittery. I’m really sorry,” she had apologized, half feeling like she had just been chastised. The edges of Kasius’s mouth ticked upwards a touch.

“Well I’m glad you’re doing good, I’d hate for something to have happened to you,” he said smoothly, and Jemma smiled.

“Thanks, I appreciate it. I hope I’m still doing ok— this is still pretty new for me, but I’ve been doing my best.”

Kasius smiled, “Please, don’t worry, Jemma, you’re doing great. The customers love Beryl, and you’ve done a great job adapting to this job and working on your persona. I’m truly impressed,” he said before he stood up from his chair. He walked over to the little bar he had, all sorts of alcohol bottles lined up neatly, looking through them in silence.

As she looked at the bottles, all she could be reminded of was that she wasn’t even legal to drink in the United States yet. Technically she wasn’t allowed to work at the club because of that fact, but it was all thanks to a very convincing fake ID that she was able to land her gig here. It meant that she was expected to keep up with alcohol, and while the girls knew, Kasius didn’t, and she intended to keep it that way.

“Well, thanks. I’ve been doing everything I can to make sure I can actually do all of those tricks without accidentally breaking my neck,” she said, another laugh escaping her in hopes of making easy small talk. Finally, Kasius settled on a bottle, pouring it into a small glass before he took the glass and brought it to his mouth, taking a drink.

“Would you like some?”

Jemma’s chest instantly clenched, half wondering in those moments if Kasius had known that she wasn’t even 21 all along. “No no, I’m fine. I want to be able to drive home safe. I don’t want to be buzzed or out of it or falling asleep or anything,” she told him.

“Well, it is late. Falling asleep right when you get back to your room would be good, right?”

“Like I said, I don’t want to drive drunk, Kasius,” she insisted, but he had already started to pour her a drink. He set the glass down in front of her before he settled back into his chair and looked at her expectantly. Jemma said nothing as her eyes became glued to the glass, hand starting to shake as she reached for it.

“Thank you, Kasius,” was all she said, her voice quiet, as she brought the glass to her and took a sip. She recoiled a bit at how strong the alcohol was, blinking a few times to gather herself.

“That’s a twenty year old scotch. What do you think?” he asked, polishing off his glass and setting it down on the desk.

“Delicious. Just…” she choked and let out a cough, “…Stronger than I’m used to. Going to need to take my time, I think…” she breathed out, staring down at the amber liquid before taking another drink, this time forcing more down, trying her damnedest not to keep coughing.

“Of course, we’re in no rush, after all.”

Even though his words were softly spoken, Jemma just wanted to finish her drink as fast as she could and get home. She had no bloody idea why she was feeling on edge, and all she could chalk it up to was a mixture of exhaustion and overthinking things. He had been perfectly nice when he had given her a job, and while she didn’t want to drink, she knew he had only offered because of her lies.

“I mean, I’d like to get home soon. I also don’t want to drink too much. I’m already feeling a bit of a buzz…” she said, whimpering slightly, almost afraid of saying so, before she took another sip.

“Then I’ll drive you. The last thing I would ever want is for you to get in an accident, or god forbid, arrested for drunk driving,” he said, watching with the slightest of smiles as she continued to sip at her drink.

“Oh, I would hate to impose. Plus I’ll need my car tomorrow.”

“I’m sure you can get a ride from one of the other girls to pick it up,” he shot back quickly.

She shouldn’t have kept drinking, she knew it, and as much as she wished she could’ve pretended to swallow some but not, she knew that wouldn’t be possible for her— especially not with how she was feeling now. Jemma had left the last drops of liquid there and slid the glass forward. She was feeling a bit woozy, a bit out of it, but she was silently relieved that she was still mostly in control of her faculties.

“See, you’re in no condition to drive, Jemma. Just let me take you. I can walk you back to your dorm room, you’ll be all set.”

“Kasius, really, I’m fine. I appreciate it, but I'm sure you have a busy day tomorrow. It’s late, and you need to get back home, too,” she rambled quickly, the alcohol having plenty to do with that. She looked at him with wide, glassy eyes, blinking a few times, her boss looking back at her curiously.

“At least let me walk you to your car, then? I’d hate to risk something happening to you,” he said, standing up and walking around his desk to help Jemma up. As she got up, she rocked on her feet slightly, feeling dizzy, but looked up to Kasius and smiled.

“Yeah, thanks… I appreciate it,” she said, blinking a few times to try and gain a sense of everything. As she stumbled into the locker room, she grabbed her duffel, nearly stumbling over as she did so, then let him lead her out. The cool air hit her hard and all at once, doing a good job in sobering her up. Kasius’s arm wrapped around her waist and pulled Jemma close, causing her to squeak. However, she settled next to him relatively quickly and managed to relax, before digging through her bag for her keys.

“Of course. Can’t let one of my favorite dancers have something happen to her. You’re precious cargo,” he whispered to her, his voice soft, but the rumble in it caused her to shiver.

“I’m one of your favorite dancers?” she asked with wide eyes, Jemma absolutely awestruck. She hadn’t known it, and she was still in shock that she could’ve been one of his favorites. Considering she hadn’t even been doing this for that long, she imagined that maybe she was middle of the road at best, but definitely not all that special. But him telling her she was one of his favorites? That was definitely one of the things that made her entire week, pride surging through every inch of her as a wide smile made its way onto her face.

“Of course. You are a truly exquisite beauty, you are a skilled dancer— I’m not sure I could find something wrong with you,” he said with a soft chuckle as they reached her car, Jemma’s head still spinning a bit.

“Thanks, Kasius, that means a lot…” she said, Kasius rubbing her side for a moment, before letting his hand wander along her side, fingers tracing along her waist and hips. Her eyes went wide for a moment as his hand brushed along her arse, not sure if she was imagining it. Finally, his hand settled back at her side, resting there a moment before pinching there.

“Still have a little bit of that baby fat, though, huh?” he smirked, tugging at it a bit before letting go, Jemma bright red, suddenly feeling… gross.

“What?”

“It is cute… Some customers will probably like it. Don’t need you being a stick, but try not to gain any weight either, ok?”

“Yeah, ok…” she said, once again feeling like a chastised little girl, looking away from him.

“I’m just trying to help you out, Jemma. You know I just want to look out for you, yeah?”

“No, I know, Kasius… I appreciate it,” she said, finally looking up at him and nodding quietly. “I promise, I won’t get skinnier, and I won’t gain weight.” Why was she promising that? She was just too drunk, probably. She needed to lie down. She needed to sleep. Text Fitz, text Daisy, and sleep.

“That’s good, I know you’ll do good at it. I’ll see you soon, Beryl. You drive safe and get some sleep,” he said, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek, something that left yet another knot in her stomach, but she gave him a small smile.

“Thank you, Kasius. I’ll see you later.” She had stepped in her car, watching as her boss went back into the club, and had sat there for a few moments, gathering herself, before slowly driving back to NYU’s campus.

Jemma honestly wasn’t sure how she had made it, but she figured it was thanks to the AC blasting in her face the whole way back. She slowly trudged back to her room, relieved she had a single unit for herself, and moved towards her bed, stepping out of her shoes without bothering to put them where she always did each night. She didn’t even bother to change into her pajamas, instead just falling onto her bed and rolling until her head was resting on the pillow, pulling her phone from her bag that was on the floor next to her bed. As much as she wanted to pass out, she knew she still had to get in touch with Daisy and Fitz.

As she turned on the screen, she squinted her eyes at the bright light set against the pitch black of her room, a sinking feeling in her stomach realizing how many messages there were from Daisy.

_“Jemma I just got home.”_

_“Jemma are you back yet?”_

_“Jemma?”_

_“Jemma?”_

_“Jemma please text back right the fuck now.”_

_“3 am, you’re not texting me, and I’m really scared. Please text me back soon.”_

_“Please tell me you just fell asleep when you got back.”_

She hadn’t even paid attention to the time and grimaced at how much she had worried her friend, knowing full well how worried she would be were the situation reversed.

_“Daisy I’m so sorry I just got back.”_

_“Where the FUCK have you been? I’ve been sick to my stomach.”_

_“Kasius kept me for a long time.”_

_“He didn’t touch you or anything did he?”_

_“Just my baby fat.”_

_“What?”_

_“That’s what he called it when he squeezed my side.”_

_“But he didn’t TOUCH you did he?”_

_“No, I’m fine.”_

_“He just wanted to talk and he gave me some alcohol.”_

_“He made you drink?”_

_“Daisy I’m fine.”_

_“I’m just worried. I don’t like that scumbag for splitting us up like that.”_

_“Everything went fine.”_

_“Jemma I get that but that’s still super gross of him. He WANTED you to drink.”_

_"It tasted awful.”_

_“Promise me you’re not trying to cover for him.”_

_“I would tell you the truth, you know this.”_

_“What did he want to talk about?”_

_“Just to make sure I was ok. Because of Fitz.”_

_“You told him you knew Fitz?”_

_“No no no, he just thought I was jumpy.”_

_“I told him I was fine.”_

_“It was just a stressful night from my test.”_

_“Sunday you’re leaving with one of us.”_

_“Of course. I’m sorry for worrying you.”_

_“It’s ok girl, I just love you and was worried.”_

_“I’m so sorry. I love you too. Get some sleep.”_

_“You too. I’ll see you Sunday.”_

_“See you then babe, sleep well. Love you.”_

_“Love you too, sleep well babe.”_

At that point, Jemma sighed, feeling exhausted, and sinking onto the pillow for a moment. Daisy had been worried about Kasius, but it wasn’t that bad… was it? …Maybe it hadn’t been great, but she needed the job, and it was all fine in the end. As long as she could continue to pay off her university bills, she would be ok.

And while she wanted to fall asleep right then and there, there was still the matter of texting Fitz, Jemma feeling more nauseous than before as she looked at their recent texts. Of all the things she could’ve forgotten in her whirlwind of a day, it was the most important thing. She just hoped he wouldn’t be too mad, though part of her wouldn’t blame him. She had dropped the ball, but she hoped that tomorrow she’d be able to make up for it. Jemma took in a deep breath, sitting up for a moment as she started to type.

_“Hey Fitz! I’m so sorry for sending this late! I had my big midterm today and I kept my phone off so I could focus, and then I went back to my room to collapse. I just woke up after sleeping for so long. I’m so sorry I forgot to text but happy birthday! I have everything planned for tomorrow. Text me back when you wake up! Hope you’re sleeping well!”_

She let out a sigh, set her phone down on the nightstand, and collapsed back onto her pillow to finally sleep. As sleep was fast approaching and her eyes grew heavy, she couldn’t help but think of what she had planned for him, and smiled to herself as she drifted off.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say sorry for two things.
> 
> First, sorry for the delay! You know, pandemic going on, we've been in the process of starting up a move, and I've also gotten involved in a few non-fic projects that have taken a lot of time and unfortunately took a bit of priority over this fic for the time being.
> 
> Second, sorry if this chapter is a bit underwhelming after the past few! It's mostly to get a bit of a view/shine a light on Fitz's thoughts after the night before, since he hasn't had nearly as much time to shine in this fic. I hope you all like it, and I plan on getting the next chapter up quicker-- which I hope you'll all enjoy because it'll be the first big Fitzsimmons chapter!
> 
> I hope you all like it!

As he slowly started to wake up, Fitz let out a groan of pain, grabbing his pillow to place it firmly over his face. His head was pounding, and the light shining in through the blinds wasn’t helping. One beer had become another had become a few more after that and really, he was just lucky he hadn’t somehow gotten blackout drunk. As much as he wanted to fall back asleep for a few hours, between his head pounding and his mind racing, there was no use in even attempting such a feat, and instead started to paw at his nightstand for his phone. After a few moments longer than he would’ve been happy to admit, he finally gripped onto his phone and pulled it over.

With a resigned sigh, Fitz finally moved his head onto the pillow and saw the list of texts he had— mostly from his friends checking in on how he was after the night’s… “festivities”, but also from Jemma. That left a smile creeping on his face for just a moment, before said smile quickly gave way to the floodgate in his mind bursting open. It was… surprisingly late when she had sent the message, and even **_he_** had gotten back home and fallen asleep. A sinking feeling started to settle in his gut again as he thought back to the night before. His bright smile too started to fade, and the sudden, loud ringing pulled him from his thoughts.

Only for his eyes to widen when he saw that **_Simmons_** was calling. He swallowed hard and sat up, eyes clenching shut from the sudden movement and rush, but he tapped on the screen while wincing.

_“Hello?”_ her voice called out, bright and sunny as ever, and even with his mind racing, she somehow managed to soothe him just a bit.

“Morning, Simmons,” he started, glad they weren’t in the same room for her to see the stress on his face, “I saw your text— are you feeling ok?” he asked, half out of concern and half out of wondering if maybe she would bring up last night.

_“Yeah, I’m feeling a lot better, thanks. I think I just got burned out from studying so much. The test was no problem, though. I got it done in about twenty minutes,”_ she told him, and it was easy for Fitz to note the pride surging from her just in her voice. That was enough to let a soft chuckle escape him.

“Hey, a new record. And don’t worry about the birthday stuff. The guys took me out after my aerospace class,” he told her, eyes clenched shut immediately after the words tumbled from his mouth.

_“Oh, I’m glad!” she chirped after a moment, “What did you all do?”_

Fitz froze, unsure of whether or not he should have breached this topic. Last night was already plenty awkward and he didn’t want to make it worse. Even if he wasn’t one hundred percent sure it was her, the feeling deep in his gut had him wondering.

It took a moment after to realize that he had just been silent, and he started to stutter and stammer, before finally managing to speak.

“Oh, well, they just took me out to get some drinks at the bar. By the time we got back to campus I was so drunk I went right off to bed.”

It was only a partial lie, given the headache he’d probably be suffering from throughout most of the day.

_“Well, I’m glad you had fun. How’s the hangover?”_ He laughed weakly to her response and shook his head, resigning to the fact that for now this wouldn’t be something they would talk about.

“…I’ve been managing. Barely.”

_“Well I hope you start feeling better soon. There’s a lot in store for today! I’m going to do everything I can to give you a great belated birthday night. I promise,”_ she told him, and, really, he had no doubt about that.

“Can’t wait, Simmons. I’m going to try and get some work done and maybe sneak a nap in before tonight. Just ring me before you head over?” he asked.

_“Of course! I’ll be there by six so we can make our reservations in time. Get some good rest, Fitz,”_ she laughed softly, which he returned before hanging up.

As soon as he was sure the call was done, he let out a loud groan and collapsed back onto his pillow. He had no clue what was in store for tonight, but the mixture of excitement and nerves was absolutely overwhelming.

He wanted to go back to sleep. To just not worry about any of this until tonight when he was face-to-face with Simmons at dinner. For now he had to actually get some work done and then try and dress nice enough to impress his best friend and not feel like a complete, utter fish out of water at dinner.

Everything he had heard from television and movies to Hunter and Trip told him that a cold shower was a surefire way to stop feeling how he was, but that had proven itself to be absolutely and utterly fruitless, and he had spent most of his walk to the campus library grumbling to himself about it.

It didn’t take long to find a cozy table without too many people nearby given the early Saturday morning, and Fitz was quick to settle in, books surrounding him and notebooks open. Granted, there wasn’t the neat organization that came with Jemma’s setup with schoolwork, but it had managed to work with Fitz’s own frantic, constantly running mind.

But any attempts at actually getting work done quickly fell by the wayside as thoughts of last night sprung to mind repeatedly. That had to have been Jemma, right? There was no way it **_couldn’t_** have been her. But at the same time, Fitz wanted to refuse to believe that it was her. That for whatever reason she did that every night. Was up on a stage nearly naked, gyrating for creeps who tossed her money like she was just some piece of meat who was there for their enjoyment.

The very thought had him feeling sick. Sick and filled with anger.

All he could do was sit there and stew, having given up at any attempt of working on his coursework. The young Scot had been so caught up in all of this that he hadn’t even noticed his friends coming over. Nor did he clue into the fact that they had sat down at the table with him and had been trying to get his attention.

“Fitz. Fitz. Fitz! Yo, man!” Trip called out, before Hunter leaned over and grabbed his shoulder, shaking him to snap him out of his reverie— though it had nearly caused him to topple out of his chair, a yelp escaping him in the process.

“Hey, hey! What’re you doing that for!?” he snapped, causing Trip’s and Hunter’s eyes to widen.

“Relax, Fitzy, you were just off in your own world no matter how much we were bothering you,” Hunter said, voice light and easy as always, as he continued to ignore his own work. “What’s got you so distracted, mate?” he asked.

Before Fitz could even open his mouth to answer, Trip already had a grin on his face.

“Probably thinking about all those asses from last night, huh?”

That was enough to get Fitz flustered, bright red, and sputtering out attempts at protests with wide eyes.

“Shut up, Trip,” he grumbled, gripping his pencil tight, though not caring to make any attempt at even faking interest in his work. Trip and Hunter both quirked a brow, glancing at each other before Fitz sighed.

“…Ok, yes, they were amazing, but…”

Fitz’s hesitation to continue left his friends grinning wide.

“But…?” Hunter asked, watching his friend with rapt attention.

“…But Beryl was just… more special, or something. Something about her, I guess,” he shrugged. The blush on his face was already noticeable, which left Hunter snickering.

“Aww, Fitzy’s got a bit of a crush, don’t he?” he asked, letting out a teasing laugh, which left Fitz blushing even brighter— if that were even possible.

“Look, you both know I’m not some… lecherous, perverted creep who just wants to creep on women who get naked for money, I just—”

“Look, Fitz, it’s fine if you want to get off. Doesn’t matter to any of us. I mean, we were all getting our rocks off last night. I mean, hell, I might even see if I can get a dance from Beryl,” Trip said before nudging Hunter with his elbow, the two of them snickering, “Damn if she didn’t know how to move.”

His friend’s words left Fitz’s chest tight and his stomach dropping. He knew exactly what had bothered him in what Trip had said, and while he knew it wasn’t fair, at the same time he was only human, and it just felt… wrong. If Beryl really was Jemma, then Fitz wasn’t sure how he’d feel about the things Trip had said.

“Well, we can always go tonight?” Hunter suggested with a cheeky grin as he looked between the two.

“Can’t, sorry. Jemma and I are celebrating my birthday since we couldn’t yesterday,” he said, the very thought causing him to flush and leaving a dopey smile on his face.

“Mate, when are you gonna ask her out? You always talk to her, you always talk about how amazing she is and how smart she is. Bloody hell, you do just about anything for her at the drop of a hat. A girl like her? She’s not gonna be single forever, and you’re gonna kick yourself if you lose the chance.”

Fitz sighed, shoulders slumping, knowing full well Hunter was right.

“I know, I know! But Jemma is just so… impressive. And I’m a bumbling dork. A bumbling dork that lasted all of fifteen seconds when an attractive blonde was up in my business,” he sighed, the dejected look clear on his face.

“Hey, man, it was your first time, I’m sure you’ll get better soon,” Trip said with a light laugh, offering a reassuring smile, while Hunter shot him a thumbs up.

“You guys, I don’t think I could actually ask her out… I don’t feel brave enough.”

Trip shook his head, “Man, you ask her out, what’s the worst that could even happen?” he asked, a question which Fitz had thought about plenty of times before.

“She says no—”

“Well there you go, mate, all she does is say no and it’s ok,” Hunter said with a nod.

“No, I wasn’t finished. She says no and then she stops being my friend. She laughs at my attempt to ask her out, stops being my friend… we never talk again, and I lose my best friend.”

Hunter and Trip shot each other sympathetic glances, now far more concerned for Fitz than they had been in the past when they had egged him on to **_finally_** ask Jemma Simmons out.

“Fitz… man, does Jemma seem like the type of girl to do that? I mean, shit, none of us know her nearly as well as you do, but I think we can all agree that she’s too sweet to do anything like that,” Trip offered.

“Definitely, mate. And, I mean, come on— who’d want to turn you down? Last night proved you were a real ladykiller, eh?” Hunter said, grabbing Fitz by the shoulders and playfully shaking him to hype him up. It managed to have its intended effect, considering the young Scot actually managed to crack a smile and chuckle. It wasn’t exactly that Fitz **_believed_** the idea he was a ladykiller, but the confidence they had in him for this was encouraging.

“I know, just… I don’t want things to be weird between us. I feel like if I tell her that I have a crush on her it’ll make everything weird. She’ll always know that I like her,” he sighed, eyes falling back down to the half-finished physics problem on his notebook.

“You don’t have to ask her out right this minute. We’re just saying you need to think long and hard about where you want to stand with her. Because she’ll be gone in a flash before you realize what happened and you’re gonna kick yourself if you never end up making a move,” Hunter explained, and considering last night, this felt like the first thing he’d said in a while that made real sense.

“I’ll think about it, ok? Just— just not tonight. I don’t want to have this on my mind when we’re hanging out,” he grumbled, grabbing his pencil and tapping it against the page in an attempt to try and get back to work, but not caring too much to pay attention to it at the moment.

“What’re you two doing, anyways?” Trip asked as he leaned back in his chair.

“She’s taking me out to dinner. We’re going to some nice Italian place in Brooklyn,” Fitz told them, and Trip let out a low whistle— one that had gotten more than a few students at nearby tables to glare at them for the noise. Fitz shot an apologetic glance their way before he ducked his head.

“She’s taking you to a ‘nice Italian place’ for your birthday. And you think think she’s not into you. Man, I’m thinking she wants some of that spotted dick,” Trip teased. Hunter immediately burst into a loud laugh that had even more people looking their way. Trip’s comment already had Fitz bright red, but with everyone now looking their way, he wanted nothing more than to slink into a hole and disappear forever.

“It’s not like that!” he snapped, “She just wants to treat me to a nice dinner. And she knows I like Italian food a lot…” he trailed off.

“If you say so, mate,” Hunter said, leaning back, folding his arms, and letting a small smile settle on his face, which merely left Fitz all the grumpier.

“Spotted dick is a bloody dessert, anyways,” he grumbled.

“Just like you’ll be tonight, my man,” Trip winked, which left Fitz putting his face in his hands, stifling back a groan.

“If I tell you both I’ll maybe ask her out eventually will you **_stop_**?” he asked, voice muffled, which was also doing a good enough job at masking his tone which was getting increasingly frustrated.

“Mate, we just know how much you’re into her and want something great for you. You two are already best friends and sickeningly adorable anytime you hang out. Might as well as jump in the deep end, right?” Hunter suggested, no longer teasing, but absolutely genuine. Fitz sighed and shot a smile to the two of them.

“I appreciate it, you guys, really. Like I said, she’s just… **_so_** bloody impressive compared to me. Any guy here would be lucky to date her! Can’t exactly say the same about me,” he shrugged, unable to help but feel defeated from the very thought.

“Not with that attitude. You act like you aren’t anything special and she’ll think the same thing. So I wanna hear you say that you’re a catch, man,” Trip said, once again clapping a hand on Fitz’s shoulder to shake him a bit.

Fitz sighed, rolling his eyes before he mumbled out, “I’m a catch.”

Hunter and Trip both looked unimpressed, before Trip shook his head.

“We can’t hear you, Fitz.”

Fitz swallowed hard, shooting a glare to his friends, then let out a huff.

“I’m. A catch.”

“That’s better, now c’mon, shout it out. You let everyone know you’re a catch, they’ll all think it just as much as you will,” Trip said, though Fitz sighed again.

“If I promise you that I’ll shout it in my bloody dorm will you leave me alone about it?” Fitz asked, quietly hoping they would finally relent.

“The school has that… Alumni weekend thing coming up, right? Promise us you’ll at least ask her to go with you to that,” Hunter said, hoping they could manage to get something from their friend, who had proven today that he was easily the most stubborn person they knew.

Before Fitz could answer his phone buzzed and he glanced to it, then started to haphazardly gather his things.

“Look, I’ll consider it, ok?” he said, tone short, “Sorry, I gotta go. Mack is helping me get ready for tonight,” he said, pulling his books into his arms.

“Have a good time, mate.”

“For real, you know we’re just messing around, right?” Trip asked, offering a warm smile. Fitz nodded simply, before hiking his backpack up onto his back.

“I know, I appreciate it, really. Just… don’t wanna get my hopes up. But thanks. I’ll see you guys later,” Fitz said, waving to his friends, who waved back wordlessly, before he went to trek back to his dorm.

The entire walk back from the library, all Fitz could think about was his upcoming dinner with Simmons. The pats on the back they had given him were nice, but even now, he was struggling to believe he was all that impressive. Especially compared to Jemma Simmons. Jemma Simmons who could already get the attention of any and everyone with ease all because of her bright eyes and bright smile, and, well, every other part of her. Thinking back to last night…

She was the most beautiful woman around, and he wasn’t anything special. But god, he would’ve loved nothing more than to date her. Even now Fitz couldn’t tear his thoughts away from the theory that Jemma and Beryl were one in the same, and there were so many questions if that **_was_** the case.

At the same time, **_everything_** was so spot on except for what she was wearing, her makeup, and how she acted.

By the time he reached his door, Mack was already there, hands in his pocket as he waited, and a knowing smile on his face.

“For someone who keeps insisting that this isn’t that big of a deal, you sure are stressing out over something as simple as what to wear,” Mack chuckled softly while Fitz moved to the door, opening it for them. Fitz grumbled as he trudged back into his room, cursing under his breath, while Mack dropped himself into the chair at Fitz’s desk.

“It **_isn’t_** a big deal, Mack! I just… want to look nice. She’s taking me to a nice place. I can’t show up looking like I usually do,” he sighed, looking down at himself. For the day he had chosen an old button up shirt, a simple pair of jeans that were faded from so much use, and sneakers. He knew he was in no state to go out to his birthday dinner with Jemma.

“You don’t have to hide from me how you feel about her. And hey, if you wanna look nice for her, then you should. Even if you don’t want to say anything to her yet, there’s nothing wrong with showing Simmons you can clean up nice,” he explained as Fitz opened up his dresser, sifting through items.

“Ok, fine. I want to dress nice for this dinner with Simmons. I don’t want to look like some bloody fool,” he huffed with frustration, pulling out a button up shirt and tossing it onto his bed behind him.

“Just relax, man. You have help now, so I promise you will look great for her tonight,” Mack smiled, before he pushed himself up out of the chair to walk over to the bed. He picked up the shirt, examining it curiously as he held it up in front of Fitz, “…Which is why you aren’t wearing that.”

Fitz’s expression fell, “Bloody hell, I really am doomed,” he sighed, before he turned back to his dresser.

“Don’t talk like that. Like I said, if you really wanna impress Simmons, we’re gonna impress her,” Mack insisted a bit more forcefully before he stepped over to Fitz’s dresser, too.

A small sigh of relief escaped Fitz, because surely the two of them could help make him look decent in the span of a few hours.

The two had spent the next few minutes scrounging through Fitz’s dresser and closet, pulling out anything and everything they could— but Fitz was far more hesitant about each item he took. He was laser-focused not just on how each piece of clothing would look, but what **_Jemma_** might think. If she might have thought he looked dashing… or like a dork.

Soon enough his drawers were half turned out, blankets covered completely by shirts and pants, and then came the actual process of finding the right outfit.

“So…” Mack trailed off, tapping his chin thoughtfully as his gaze scanned across the mess of clothes.

“…How bad is it?” Fitz asked, already preparing for the worst.

“It’s not bad, we just need to figure out what you wanna go for. Do you want to do something dressier? Do you want to be more casual?” he asked, turning to look at Fitz, who was still focused on everything.

“Maybe, uh… this?” he asked, sifting through garments to pull up a dark gray blazer. Mack looked it up and down before nodding.

“I like it. It’s a good start. It’ll be easy to clean up nice for her,” he said. That alone was enough to help Fitz feel a bit better, and a soft sigh of relief fell from his lips.

The two started to sift through his clothes some more, mostly quiet, before Fitz cleared his throat.

“Hey, uh, Mack?”

“Yeah, Turbo?”

Fitz swallowed hard, having no idea to try and even begin breaching the topic of everything he was beginning to think about with Jemma. He didn’t want to just outright say it, but surely with his friend being older, wiser, and better with any and everything related to women, Mack would have some thoughts on the situation. Or at least the vague situation he was about to ask about.

“You ever… think about the girls last night?”

Mack paused for a moment, a confused look settling on his face as he turned to Fitz for a moment, before back to the clothes.

“I mean, I was last night. Can’t say I’ve thought about them much today. Why?”

“I mean, I guess I was just thinking about it this morning. You know… why they do what they do. You know, the whole…” he trailed off, before gesturing with his hand vaguely, which Mack smirked at.

“Stripping?”

Despite experiencing it in person (and up close, no less) the night prior, the words brought a light flush of red to his face, and Fitz sputtered.

“I-I-I mean, yeah. Like why they would choose to do it. I mean, they can do anything, right? So why do that? Why let people look at you like that? It just doesn’t make sense to me, I guess,” he shrugged weakly.

Why did **_Jemma_** do that? She was one of the smartest people not just in her program, but at all of NYU. Why did she work there? Those were the only questions Fitz had running in his mind.

Mack was quiet, deep in thought, before he eventually gave a light shrug.

“I dunno. Guess it really isn’t something I’ve thought about. They make money from it, people enjoy it, I figure that’s all that really matters. Not my business.”

It was an answer that made sense, but definitely not the answer that Fitz was hoping for. He hoped there would be some sort of reason that could explain why Jemma would resort to something like this.

Or at least an answer that wasn’t “not my business”.

“You really wouldn’t want to know?” Fitz pressed, but Mack shook his head.

“Unless one of them wanted to share with me, not really. Most people who come to my job don’t ask me why I do what I do,” he said, at which Fitz internally scowled. Again, another answer that made sense, but it wasn’t the one Fitz wanted. He just needed that magic answer.

Another pause settled over the room, before Mack nudged Fitz with his elbow.

“So you gonna ask Jemma out or Beryl?”

Fitz was even brighter now— were that even possible.

“It was just a question, Mack!” Fitz’s reaction to his joke, of course, got Mack chuckling, before he finally grabbed a pair of slacks.

“I’m teasing, bud. Now c’mon, I think we figured out a good outfit. Go get changed so you can impress Simmons,” Mack told him, and Fitz walked to the bathroom. He did his best to keep his mind off of everything as he changed, before emerging minutes later, now wearing a dark grey blazer, white shirt, and navy slacks. Definitely neither too stuffy nor too casual. And when Fitz looked in the mirror, he had to admit, he felt better about this. Maybe he wasn’t some six-foot-something hunk, but he cleaned up well and looked pretty good.

His phone started to vibrate on his desk and he just about ran towards it, smiling wide.

“I take it that’s my cue to leave,” Mack said as he moved to the door, placing his hand on the knob.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks Mack. I really appreciate it,” Fitz said with a small nod.

“Anytime, man. Knock her dead tonight, yeah?” Fitz let out a soft laugh at that, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

“I’ll do my best.”

Mack left right after, and Fitz had stood awkwardly at the door, hands shoved in his pockets. He had waited for about ten minutes before a knock on the door came. He tensed up, but took in a breathe and exhaled slowly.

“Be right there!”

Was he still nervous? Yeah. But he was going to do everything he could to try and impress Jemma. He could think about everything else later, but now? Now he’d enjoy a night out with his best friend.


End file.
